LATE

The world was plotting against me-
(it always does when I'm running late)
The weather was nice- perhaps the nicest we'd had all year,
but I was to busy to notice
After all I had meetings to attend.
The traffic seemed to plot against me in it's cold and mechanical way
I  watched   the    minutes      pass,
I realised I was going to be unacceptably late.
"Who do I have to kill to get me out of this traffic!?!"
My patience was wearing as thin as my neglected brake pads
Finally  we
            moved
Just a little,
but enough to appease the burning ulcers forming in my stomach
My eyes drifted towards the * flashing *lights*
A stout policeman frantically tried to direct the traffic with his chubby arms-
"Damn authorities think that they can control the world with their damned fluorescent torches."
The car
     inched
          closer
Just close enough for me to realise there had been an accident
"Probably some Yobbo's had a bit of a fender bender. Just great! Just what I need right now!"
My nostrils filled with the smell of burnt rubber
My eyes traced the manic Zig Zag pattern of the tire marks-
a painful contrast to the stillness of a young boyish face reddened with road rash
a helmet helplessly clung to his head
His limp body remained motionless on a stretcher
All hope was gone for him.
We had both been Late.
Late
By: Elisha "Snark"
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